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Well might you wish for change by those accurst,
45 For the dull glory of a virtuous Wife; Nor let false Shews, nor empty Titles please : Aim not at Joy, but rest content with Ease.
The Gods, to curse Pamela with her pray’rs, Gave the gilt Coach, and dappled Flanders Mares, The shining robes, rich jewels, beds of state, And, to complete her bliss, a Fool for Mate. She glares in Balls, front Boxes, and the Ring, A vain, unquiet, glittring, wretched thing! Pride, Pomp, and State but reach her outward part; She sighs, and is no Duchess at her heart.
But, Madam, if the fates withstand, and you Are destin'd Hymen's willing Victim too; Trust not too much your now resistless charms, Those, Age or Sickness, soon or late, disarms: 60 Good-humour only teaches charms to last, Still makes new conquests, and maintains the past; Love, rais’d on Beauty, will like that decay, Our hearts may bear its slender chain a day; As flow'ry bands in wantonness are worn,
65 A morning's pleasure, and at evening torn; This binds in ties more easy, yet more strong, The willing heart, and only holds it long.
Thus Voiture's early care still shone the same, And Monthausier was only chang'd in name : 70 By this, ev'n now they live, ev'n now they charm, Their Wit still sparkling, and their flames still warm.
Now crown'd with Myrtle, on th' Elysian coast, Amid those Lovers, joys his gentle Ghost : Pleas'd, while with smiles his happy lines you view, And finds a fairer Rambouillet in you. The brightest eyes of France inspir’d his Muse; The brightest eyes of Britain now peruse; And dead, as living, 'tis our Author's pride Still to charm those who charm the world beside.
Ver. 69. Thus Voiture's early care] Mademoiselle Paulet. P.
MRS. TERESA BLOUNT,
ON HER LEAVING THE TOWN AFTER THE CORONATION.
As some fond Virgin, whom her mother's care
She went, to plain-work, and to purling brooks, Old-fashion’d halls, dull Aunts, and croaking rooks: She went from Op'ra, Park, Assembly, Play, To morning-walks, and pray’rs three hours a day; To part her time 'twixt reading and bohea, 15 To muse, and spill her solitary tea, Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon, , Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon: Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire, Hum half a tune, tell stories to the squire; 20
Coronation] Of King George the first, 1715.
P. Ver. 7. Zephalinda] The assumed name of Teresa Blount, under which she corresponded for many years with a Mr. More, under the feigned name of Alexis.
Up to her godly garret after sev'n,
pray, for that's the way to heav'n. Some Squire, perhaps, you take delight to rack; Whose game is Whisk, whose treat a toast in sack; Who visits with a Gun, presents you birds, 25 Then gives a smacking buss, and cries -No Words ! Or with his hound comes hallooing from the stable ; Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a table; Whose laughs are hearty, tho' his jests are coarse, And loves you best of all things—but his horse. 30
In some fair ev'ning, on your elbow laid,
35 Of Lords, and Earls, and Dukes, and garter'd
Knights, While the spread fan o'ershades your closing eyes; Then give one flirt, and all the vision flies. Thus vanish sceptres, coronets, and balls, And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls ! 40
So when your Slave, at some dear idle time, (Not plagu'd with head-achs, or the want of rhyme) Stands in the streets, abstracted from the crew, And while he seems to study, thinks of you; Just when his fancy points your sprightly eyes, 45 Or sees the blush of soft Parthenia rise, Gay pats my shoulder, and you vanish quite, Streets, Chairs, and Coxcombs rush upon my sight; Vex'd to be still in town, I knit my brow, Look sour, and hum a Tune, as you may now. 50
VERSES TO MR. C.
ST. JAMES'S PLACE.
London, Oct. 22.
Few words are best; I wish you well;
BETHEL, I'm told, will soon be here; Some morning walks along the Mall,
And evening friends, will end the year.
If, in this interval, between
The falling leaf and coming frost, You please to see, on Twit'nam green
Your friend, your poet, and your host;
For three whole days you here may rest
From Office business, news and strife; And (what most folks would think a jest)
Want nothing else, except your wife.